


Diversion

by SympathyForTheBlinderDevil



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Decisions, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Family Drama, Forbidden Love, Please Don't Hate Me, john shelby needs to learn how to keep it in his pants, they didn't mean for this to happen, this is all his damn fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-10-25 21:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17733206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SympathyForTheBlinderDevil/pseuds/SympathyForTheBlinderDevil
Summary: Esme is frustrated with John’s infidelity and subconsciously begins to punish him.Disclaimer: I absolutely love John Shelby, but he broke my heart every time that he cheated on Esme. I guess this is helping me work out my feelings about that. Don’t hate me.





	1. Chapter 1

Esme stood with her back to the door. She took short rapid breaths and tried to rub the sting out of her jaws. She squeezed her eyes shut, but all she could see was his icy stare.

She had made a glaring miscalculation in trying to talk to Tommy about taking the family on the road to France. It was a bold move, she knew, but she didn’t know that his reaction would be so fierce.

She could still feel his rough fingertips gripping her face. Her mind raced as she replayed it in her mind. The threats he made didn’t faze her.

_If you ever talk about getting lost again I’ll cut you from this family._

She knew that Tommy needed her family connections, and she was able to remind him of that.

_What family?_

Her sweaty hands, her racing heart, and her inability to catch her breath came from somewhere else. His hands were freezing cold, but her skin burned where he touched it. Something electric passed between them while she spoke of getting lost. She hadn’t meant for it to happen—she’d never thought of him that way—but he felt it too.

Thank God the shop was empty. She wondered if he would have behaved any differently with others around. No, she decided, he wouldn’t have touched her in front of John. But, then, she wouldn’t have spoken to Tommy in that way in front of John, either. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. She had to pull it together; she had things to do.

 

***One Year Later***

 

“I’m sick to death of it Pol.”

Esme stood in the vault, slamming £100 bundles onto a shelf. She and Polly were charged with doing the count at the end of the business day and readying the shop for the next morning, while the boys sought leisure pursuits.

“I like the work, God knows it beats moping ‘round the house all day changing nappies, but he just swans off without me every night and doesn’t come home ‘till we're all in bed.” She laid the last bundle of notes on the pile and mumbled, “Or sometimes not at all.”

Polly sympathized with her. Over the last year, she and Esme had bonded a bit, and she knew that life with a Shelby man could try the patience of a saint. She wrote the last sum in the ledger and slammed it shut with an air of finality. From her desk drawer, she produced a bottle of port and poured a glass for them both. The conversation that they were about to have called for a drink. Polly, never one to mince words called out, “Is he going to whores?”

Esme poked her head out of the vault and scowled, “I don’t know if he’s paying them, but there are women.” The heavy steel door whined as she pulled it closed behind her, and she gratefully swallowed the drink that Polly handed to her. “I can smell them on him when he comes stumbling in.”

“Does he still want you?”

Esme scoffed, “When does he not? He acts like all I’m good for is cooking his meals and riding his cock.”

“That’s how they all are. We are expected to keep the hearth and home while they have all the fun.” She lit a cigarette and poured another tot for both of them. “It’s not fair for us. Never has been.”

They drank in silence for a few minutes, then Polly spoke, “Have you ever thought of giving him a taste of his own medicine?”

Esme’s eyes grew dark as she quietly responded, “I’m an honorable woman. I would never lie with another man.”

Pol rolled her eyes, “I’m not suggesting that you turn into the town whore.” She tilted her head back and eyed Esme, “You’re an attractive woman. Attract some attention. Make him jealous.”

“Where, the Garrison?” Esme laughed, “I wouldn’t give any of those bastards the steam off my piss.”

Dissolving in a fit of laughter, Polly conceded.

 

***One Week Later***

 

Aunt Polly sipped her tea loudly while scowling over the edge of her teacup at John. He, Tommy, and Esme were in various stages of finishing breakfast and haggling over sections of the morning newspaper. John was oblivious to the fact that Polly had been shooting daggers at him with her eyes until Tommy spoke up. “What has John done to put your nose out of joint, Pol? Come on, out with it.”

“All right, I’ll come out with it. Where were you last night, John? I heard you coming up the lane at four this morning.” She spoke in a no-nonsense tone. She meant to have answers.

“Polly!” Esme protested.

“No, Esme, he needs to answer.” Polly shot back.

Tommy looked from Aunt Polly to John and then to Esme who uncomfortably shifted in her seat. Her face was a storm cloud, and she defiantly refused to look at anyone at the table. She sat with her arms crossed, looking at the door.

“No, I’ll answer the question. I had business to attend to,” John stated, as if it was the most natural thing on Earth to attend to business until 4:00 am.

Polly scoffed, “Business, eh?”

Tommy tried to hazard another glance at Esme who stood up in a huff, “I have business to attend to as well. The betting shop opens in 10 bloody minutes.”  
“Esme,” John started.  
“Leave it, John. We’ll talk later.” Esme grumbled.

Before Esme was completely out of the room, Pol spoke up, “Better keep a close eye on that one, John.” Esme cast a glance over her shoulder to see what Polly was playing at. “There was a bloke in the shop last week who was ready to take her away.”

“Who was he?” John sat up stiffly and puffed his chest out while Polly smirked behind her teacup.

 

Alone in the shop, Esme prepared the betting slips and cash boxes. She smiled and shook her head; she could hardly believe the balls on Polly. Lost in her own thoughts she didn’t hear Tommy creep into the room.

“Who was it?” He asked, his voice still raspy with sleep.

Esme looked up with surprise, “Shit, Thomas. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Within two steps Tommy was inches from her. He was close enough for her to smell his shaving soap and the starch in his shirt. She instinctively stepped back and he followed. “I said, who was he?”

“Jesus, Tommy! Polly made it up. John’s been whoring around and Polly thought it would be a good idea to make him jealous.”

Tommy took a drag from his ever-present cigarette and studied Esme’s face. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “Does it bother you that John stays out?”

She lifted her chin and matched his attitude with her own. “He’s my husband, isn’t he?”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “That’s not an answer.”

He stubbed his cigarette out and left her standing there, staring at his back as he walked across the shop to his office. She didn’t breathe or blink until he closed the door.

 

***One Day Later***

 

Esme loved horses. That was something Tommy could understand and something that Polly reminded them about as they loaded the truck to go to the horse auction.

But John stood with a puzzled look as if the very suggestion was mad. “Esme doesn’t have time for horses what with the kids and the house and the shop.”

Polly patted him on the cheek. “You’re buying horses anyway. Would it be so hard to do something nice for your wife? It would cost less than a weekend on the piss and she needs something to herself. Tommy, tell him.”

Tommy shrugged, “It couldn’t hurt. Call it a diversion. Something to keep her from pining away about traveling.”

“Or running off,” Polly quipped.

“What’s that?” John looked back at Polly, “What’s she said?”

“A woman like her can only handle so much for so long, John. She’s a Lee.”

When all he could do was stare at her and shift the toothpick in his mouth, Polly let out an exasperated sigh and railed at him, “For fuck’s sake! She’s a Good wife, but even good women have their limits. With all the late nights you’ve been keeping, God knows where with God knows who, a gesture such as a horse would go a long way toward keeping your wife happy.”  
John gave her a cheeky grin, the kind that got him out of numerous punishments as a child. “All right, all right, Aunt Pol.”

As they climbed into the truck, Tommy nodded to Polly and she knew that he’d take care of it.

 

Day turned into night, and the truck rolled into Charlie’s yard carrying a gelding and a stallion. Curly helped Tommy unload the horses and get them into their stalls since John had gone ahead to the Garrison to meet up with Arthur.

Curly went over the first horse with an expert eye, “He’s a good one. But why’d you get a gelding, Tommy? Not like you to buy a gelding.”

“He’s not for me.”

As Tommy answered, he saw Esme walking into the stables. She hated not being allowed to go to the auction, so Polly told her to leave the kids with her and go to see what they’d brought home.

She was flushed from the long walk and flashed a rare grin when she saw the new additions standing in their stalls. “You got two!” she marveled and approached the gelding. She pulled a sugar cube from her pocket and giggled when he nuzzled her hand.

Tommy couldn’t help but smile along with her. Her passion for horses matched his own. There were few things in Small Heath that could bring peace or joy to him, and seeing Esme truly happy as she bent down to kiss the horse’s muzzle did it for him.

“Do you like him?”

“He’s wonderful.”

“He’s yours.”

She was stunned into silence. Tommy walked over to the stall where she stood and brushed the gelding’s forelocks with his fingers. The horse nickered and Tommy murmured reassuringly to him. He then turned to Esme and looked into her deep brown eyes which were rapidly filling with tears and whispered, “He’s yours, Es.” She was amazed, utterly surprised, and touched by his kindness.

Before she could think about what she was doing, she threw her arms around Tommy’s neck and embraced him. Her lips met his for a split second before she pulled herself back.

He gripped her shoulders as she stammered, “I...I’m...”

He knew that they were playing a dangerous game, but he wanted to make this okay. He didn’t want anything to dampen the joy that she felt and the odd connection that was growing between them. But his justification didn’t quite match his demeanor. “Don’t apologize, Esme. You’ve done nothing wrong. Just sisterly affection.” His eyes were half closed, and the words dripped off of his lips like honey.

He let go of her shoulders, and in a daze, she turned toward the stall. It all had happened so fast. It was a heartfelt reaction, almost a reflex. But the way that it made her feel, and the way that Tommy looked at her…

Tommy may have told her that she had done nothing wrong, but the butterflies in her stomach knew otherwise.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and I ran, I ran so far away

Esme left the stable in a blur. Her heart throbbed in her ears and her limbs felt numb. The haze that enveloped her was interrupted by occasional flashes of panic which overcame her in realization of what she had done.

But, what had she done? Her consciousness lurched between savoring the memory of the moment when she wrapped her arms around Tommy and justifying the action as spontaneous and innocent. Like Tommy had said, it was just a sisterly show of affection. It was really only a hug. There was the matter of the kiss... She tried to convince herself that it meant nothing, but then she felt Tommy’s soft lips lingering on hers and saw the look in his eyes when she pulled away from him. She was in an awful kind of limbo, suffering for sins that she hadn’t even enjoyed.

She wondered why the fuck Tommy was always around her lately. For the last year he had made a point of avoiding her, but last week he insinuated himself into her life—into her personal business with John. At first she wrote it off as Tommy keeping an eye on his brother’s home life for the sake of the Blinders. After all, John was no good to him if he was distracted. After tonight, though, she wondered if Tommy had other motives. If anything, Tommy was methodical; maybe he had been patiently waiting for an opening.

She walked up the lane at a quick pace, every step drawing her closer to her destination. She needed to see John. Her conscience craved absolution that only he could give. If she could confess to her husband what she’d done, maybe the shame that she felt would be erased. Her cheeks were flushed and her breath made soft white clouds in the dingy air. The ash from the forges of Small Heath swirled and parted in her path as she swept around the corner into the warm lights of the pub.

She reached the threshold to the Garrison and drew a shaky breath. She had to get this right. She would have one chance to present her side of what happened and make it seem beyond reproach. She paused for a moment while she thought about how she could tell John that she’d thrown herself at Tommy’s head. John may be easy to sway, but Arthur had no emotional attachment to her. Arthur would be able to smell bullshit from a mile away. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. 

If she stayed quiet, John would never know. Tommy sure as hell wouldn’t say anything, but keeping this secret to herself would do her no favors. If she kept it to herself, it was as good as admitting that she felt something for Tommy. She couldn’t bear to face his cold blue eyes filled with the smug assumption that she ached for his touch. She stood up straight and set her mind on what she needed to accomplish. She was an honorable woman. She had kept to herself while John had his fill of philandering. She had nothing to hide.

After a moment’s hesitation, she had worked up the nerve to go inside.

John was not expecting to see Esme at The Garrison. He and Arthur had drained a bottle between them and called out for another. The willowy blond barmaid who had delivered the bottle was sitting in the booth next to John and sprang to her feet when Esme came into the snug. As she skittered away, John visibly squirmed in his seat, readjusting himself. Esme bit the inside of her cheek and ignored the retreating girl who was practically in her husband’s lap, and reminded herself why she was there.

“John!” she beamed, “com’ere you!” She slid into the booth and took his bewildered face into her hands. In an uncharacteristic display of public affection, she kissed him deeply. When she pulled away from him, she gazed adoringly into his eyes. “I’ve seen the ‘orse. He’s beautiful.” Esme ignored the fact that the seat was still warm from the barmaid’s ass and tried to look hopelessly smitten by her husband.

John was gobsmacked. He’d agreed to let Tommy pick a horse for Esme to ride, but hadn’t given it much thought since then. She was convincingly over the moon about the horse, and he decided that it wouldn’t hurt to take the credit. He straightened up and slid his arm around Esme’s waist, “I’m glad you found him to your liking, love. Arthur and I were just discussing how I bought him.” He winked at Arthur who willingly played along.

You were just buttering up that barmaid, Esme thought, but outwardly she giggled and pressed herself into John’s side. “I was so excited that I nearly knocked Thomas down. I hugged him and gave him a peck before I thought what I was doing,” she giggled. “His face was a right picture!”

There it was, what should have been an insurance policy against any guilty feelings or repercussions. John and Arthur laughed along with her. Esme breathed a sigh of relief, but deep in her heart a seed had been planted. She nearly shuddered at the thought of what could grow there in time.

She felt an overwhelming urge to be close to John. She snaked an arm into his jacket and around his waist. He shifted the toothpick in his mouth and looked sideways at her. “Ay girl, what are you up to?” he teased.

“Come home with me and find out,” she purred, playing along.

“Me and Arthur still have some business to go over. Run along home and I’ll...”

Esme couldn’t stand his rejection. Not tonight. She pushed away from him and broke in, “You’ll what, John? Get that blonde slut back in here the second I’ve walked out?” 

Her temper flared and she faced him with her eyes flashing a warning. The shit between her and Tommy was all John’s bloody fault. How was she supposed to feel when he so obviously thought that she was an idiot? When he blatantly flaunted his infidelities in front of her face?

“You’re out of order, Esme,” John quietly insisted. “Go home and I’ll be there soon.”

“I swear to God, if you come home smelling like that tart’s cheap perfume…”

“Go on,” Arthur cajoled, “I’ll make sure that he trots home within the hour.”

Esme shifted her eyes between the both of them, and decided to cut her losses. She would go home, even though her insides were still shaking and her heart ached with uncertainty. “See that you do.”

***

The children would be sleeping by the time she got home. She thought about having a bath and a few glasses of brandy while she waited. One part of her needed to hold John in the same way that a child craves the reassurance of a parent when it’s done something naughty. The other part resented John for pushing Tommy to take an interest in her, and she in him. After all, if her husband wasn’t fucking around Tommy would have no reason to be involved.

The house was dark except for a lamp that burned low in the parlor. Esme thanked her lucky stars for the dimly lit room and skirted the light, rushing through the shadows and hiding her face from Polly.

“Thanks for putting the kids to bed, Pol. I’m going up to have a bath.”

“Where’s John?” Polly called to Esme’s back.

She seemed not much more than a blur of tangled curls as she brushed past Pol on her way through the house.

“Esme!”

She stopped and braced herself for Polly’s questions. Esme had hoped that she could get up the stairs without Polly looking her in the face.

“Did John not come home with you?”

Esme dreaded having to answer. Pol could read anyone, and her delinquency would surely be apparent when she spoke. “He’s at the Garrison drinking. Where else?”

Polly rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Was Tommy at the stables?”

The sound of his name sent a cold shock through her body. She tried to separate herself from the person who embraced Tommy just hours ago. She nodded her head. “He was unloading the horses.” She tried to act naturally and coached her face into a smile. “He gave one to me.”

“John bought the horse for you.” Polly no more believed her words than Esme did. They both knew that Tommy had bought the horse for her, but Pol tried to help her errant nephew’s cause.

Esme took the hint and changed tack, “Right, well, if I want to go for a ride tomorrow I’ll need to be up early.” She turned toward the stairs, but before she could make her way toward the silence she so desperately needed, Polly stopped her again.

Polly had noticed something odd in Esme’s demeanor, but she couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong. “Have you and John been fighting tonight?”

Esme looked Polly in the eye and gave her an honest account. “I asked him to come home, and he made an excuse to stay at the Garrison.”

She didn’t have the heart to mention the barmaid who she suspected was sitting on her husband’s lap as they spoke. Polly understood her silence and didn’t push Esme any farther.

The steaming hot water soothed her sore muscles but did little to settle her mind. As she soaked she watched the clock. Over an hour had passed and John had yet to come home. Worse than that, whenever she closed her eyes she replayed the moment that she pulled away from Tommy and saw his gaze lazily drifting over her. She could still feel his fingers pressing into her shoulders and smell the smoke and whisky on his skin. Whatever happened between her and John tonight, she had to steer clear of Tommy tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JFC I'm not sure where I'm going with this. It's really my personal catharsis.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy tries to get Esme out of his system. Esme redoubles her efforts to hold on to John.

Tommy Shelby stood alone under a naked light bulb. He badly needed a drink and he had come into the tack room to find the bottle of rye whiskey that Charlie kept there. 

His nerves were admittedly rattled after what passed between him and Esme. What was she thinking, putting her arms around him? It was a spontaneous act, something that he was sure she had not planned on doing, but she must have read something in his bearing that drew her in. He thought of the way that his breath caught when she kissed him. It only lasted seconds, but he had thought of little else since she left.

He found the rye stashed behind a can of oil, and drank straight from the bottle. Cheap stuff. It had a bite and Tommy winced as it momentarily took his breath away.

Of course, she left in a hurry. He had tried to calm her down— tried to make her stay if only to prove that nothing untoward had happened, but she was spooked.  
He had told her, “Esme, it’s okay, it was nothing, just sisterly affection”

But her wild eyes and shaking hands showed him all he needed to know. There was no sign of the bravado that she usually displayed to him. She stared at the stall, blinking into nothingness for a moment, then turned and walked away as fast as she could go without running. 

He would have to steer clear of her for a while or she might have a fit of conscience and run to John about how she kissed his brother. Little did he know that she had already done just that. The irony of her situation made him roll his eyes as he threw back another mouthful of the rye. John could hardly keep track of who was under him nowadays, but Esme...Esme was pure of heart (or at least pure in deed). Tommy was certain that she had kept to her wedding vows. 

Still, she had always fascinated him. One moment she was steady and grounded, like the earth itself, but in the next, it was as if some kind of magic guided her every move. Once he saw the magic, he couldn’t get it out of his head. John was a lucky man. With a woman like her, why did his brother need to stray?

Tommy saw the way that she took care of everyone but herself and handled all the mundane details of family life. She really didn’t have a choice though, did she? From the moment she came to them she was saddled with the children. Before she could get her legs under her she was pregnant. She stood up to John and confronted him about his dalliances, but it ultimately got her nowhere. As a woman, it was her lot in life.

He couldn’t place exactly when his thoughts about her had started to change, and he supposed that it had happened gradually. He’d always had an admiration for her boldness, even if at times it was a problem for him. She had a fire within her and a temper that could go off like a hand grenade. She knew her own mind and would tell anyone about it when she first arrived, but over time he’d seen her light dimmed under the weight of her responsibilities and John’s indiscretions. He had begun to notice the little ways in which life chipped away at her, and he felt the need to intervene on her behalf.  
He replaced the bottle and ran his hands over his face. He was bone tired, and his mind was muddled. He needed to go home and sleep it off.

***

Esme made her peace with John that night. He had stumbled home in the wee hours, crawling into bed beside her and taking what was his. She lay on her back watching him above her. The curve of his lips, his angular jaw, his alabaster skin…it was all too much to resist. He made her feel euphoric, so transcendent, that she wondered how she could ever doubt his love for her. There may have been others, but she was his wife. She was his home.  
Afterward, as he lay sleeping on her chest, she stroked his hair and thought about the last few weeks. Of course, John wasn’t perfect—he often disappointed and hurt her—but she loved him. No matter what he got up to, she could never seriously entertain the thought of leaving him, especially not for his brother. 

Tommy wouldn’t be any better for her, she mused. The whole town knew about his regular visits to Lizzie Stark. His brooding silences would be unbearable. Esme was moody herself; she needed someone lighthearted like John to balance her. Besides, even in her wildest imaginings, there’s no way that she and Tommy could make a life together. The very idea was ludicrous! If word were to get out about the circumstances of their… whatever was going on between them, it would blow the whole family apart. The bizarre connection that they shared had to be buried. She knew what she had to do.

She eased John off of her. “Why’d ya do that? I was comfortable,” he sleepily mumbled. 

“I need to turn out the light, Love.”

Once the lamp was off, she turned back to him and ran her fingers along his brow as her eyes adjusted to the dusky shadows of the room. “John, I need you to do something for me.” 

“Mmmm, anything for you. Just name it.”

She took a deep breath and whispered into the darkness, “I want another child.”

As her words settled on him, she could see his smile in the pale light of the moon.

***

The next few months were a blur for Tommy as he became more involved with business in the London clubs and horse racing. He was often in the company of his horse trainer, May Carleton, and his pursuit of a blue ribbon kept him out of Small Heath much of the time, both by circumstance and design. He avoided Charlie’s yard as much as possible for he knew that Esme would be there any odd moment that she could steal away for a ride. While he trotted around the fields of May’s estate he often pictured what Esme would look like astride the gelding, her dark eyes twinkling with contentment and her curls flying out behind her. Later, in the warm glow of the firelight, May would reap the benefit of Tommy’s fertile imagination. His resolve to avoid Esme was strong, and after a time he almost felt like he had gotten his strange infatuation with her out of his system.

However, when he was at the betting shop, Polly caught him stealing glances at Esme one too many times. She tried to give Tommy the benefit of the doubt, but in her bones, she could feel that something wasn’t right. She couldn’t fathom why the two of them would be in cahoots, whether it be business or personal, but all the signs were there. The two of them were keeping something a secret.

The straw that broke the camel’s back came on an ordinary Wednesday morning. Polly was preparing cash boxes for the day when Esme made her way into the betting shop with eyes that were bruised from lack of sleep and red from crying. She busied herself compiling the odds on the day’s races while Tommy paced outside his office and waited for his brother. When Tommy asked her John’s whereabouts, she snapped. 

“How would I know? He fucking hasn’t been home!”

Their eyes met and Tommy’s heart dropped to his feet. “Esme, come back to my office,” he rasped, his voice a low rumble.

As Tommy ushered Esme back to his office, Polly stood aghast. The tone of their voices as the conversation went on sounded a bit too familiar.

“I’m fed up with having my heart broken. It’s not fair,” 

“What are you going to do?” Tommy asked. 

“He is my husband. It’s not like I have much of a choice.” Full of anger and pride, she tried to will away the tears that fell from her dark eyes.

Polly could hear Tommy sigh deeply. She could almost picture the way he would rub his forehead and light a cigarette. She got up from her desk and headed toward Tommy’s office.

Tommy’s reaction to Esme’s distress was telling. For a moment, he stood smoking as he wrestled with the emotions that he had worked so hard to suppress. His head told him that he was frustrated with John and worried about the effect that his extramarital activities would have on the company, but his heart just wanted to hold Esme while she cried. He went to her and placed his hands on either side of her face, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. His hard edges softened, and his tone was soft and low. “I know you love him, but you deserve better.”

By then Polly had reached the threshold of Tommy’s office, and she couldn’t believe what she was seeing and hearing. Tommy locked eyes with Polly and coolly regained his composure, but Esme couldn’t face her and rushed from the room.

“Thomas Michael Shelby,” Polly spat.

“She does deserve better. I know it, and you know it,” Tommy roared. He refused to be painted as a villain when all he had done was offer comfort and sympathy to a member of his family. Years of practice had taught him to rationalize his most grievous behaviors, and this was no exception. He pointed at Polly with the hand that held his cigarette and continued, “You have taken her side too.” 

“It’s not about taking her side and you know it,” Polly flung back at him. She pointed her own finger at Tommy, “You had better watch yourself, Thomas. Take this up with John, and bloody leave her alone.”

“Do you really think that I would go after my brother’s wife?” Tommy was indignant.

Polly threw her hands up and shouted, “I don’t know what to expect from you anymore!”

Tommy and Polly’s heated exchange reverberated through the air of the office. Esme scrambled to her desk and fought back a wave of nausea as she fished her purse out of her desk drawer. Her face and hands were going numb and she could feel a sheen of cold sweat forming on her back. _I have to get out of here for a while,_ she thought as she reached for the doorknob. Just then, the door swung open and she was face to face with her husband.

“What are they goin’ at it about? You can bloody hear them down the block.”

“Move!” Esme commanded and pushed him aside. She leaned on the cool brick wall of the building, eyes closed. She breathed in deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth in an attempt to settle her stomach.

John turned and stepped back out into the lane. He put an arm around Esme’s shoulder, which she shrugged off. 

“Leave me alone, just back away,” she half moaned.

John was undeterred. He moved around until he was face to face with her. “Hey, what’s wrong, love?” 

She squinted her eyes in the hazy sunlight of Small Heath and swallowed another wave of nausea. “I’m pregnant.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shit hits the fan when John catches on to what has been happening between Tommy and Esme, and Polly gets caught in the aftermath.

The shop had to run without Esme’s presence in the days that followed the scene in Tommy’s office. After running from Polly’s accusations, and suffering through the overheard echoes of Tommy’s defense, it would be a wonder if she ever went back again. It wasn’t so much the words that Tommy said in response to Pol; he had painted Esme in a sympathetic light. It was the way in which he had sounded— cold, robotic, and devoid of feeling. It was as if the gentleness she felt in his touch and the vulnerability she saw in his eyes just moments before were figments of her imagination. She spent the better part of a week locked in the house that she and John shared, hardly speaking to anyone.

John chalked it up to her new pregnancy; she was a bit queasy at the beginning with the last one, so he didn’t see anything out of order. Esme begged him not to tell the others yet, and although John thought it strange that she wanted to keep their good news a secret, he humored her. He stayed around the house a bit more and helped out with the older kids, who had Esme’s nerves frayed to the point of snapping.

In truth, there were two reasons why she needed to delay the news. Firstly, she wanted to wait until she had the nerve to dispel any ideas that Polly might have about how far she had let things go with Tommy. Theirs was a purely emotional affair, she reasoned, even though she was half lying to herself. It made no sense, but when he held her in his gaze, she felt safe and cared for. Tommy understood the pain in her existence, and he acknowledged it when other men in her life turned a blind eye. Polly and Ada shook their heads at John’s cheating ways and offered advice to her, but they were her sisters, and it just didn’t give her the same solace. As shameful as it was, Esme craved the validation of Tommy’s attention. Even though it was indefensible, she craved the warmth of Tommy’s arms. Even though he had no claim on her, and she owed him nothing, she wanted to tell Tommy about the baby before he heard it from another’s lips— and that was the second reason. 

She prayed every night, _God, please, let this baby stop me from wanting to feel him close to me_.

Tommy had the decency to fuck off to the country after his argument with Polly, which was a usual destination for him as of late. May Carleton had his stallion nearly ready for the track, and he could lose himself in the comfort of her hospitality while he kept an eye on racing business. Pol, Scudboat, and Lovelock were doing their best at the shop, but in Tommy’s absence, it was imperative that Esme come back to work. After an emphatic written request from Polly herself, she finally relented.

 

Within minutes of Esme’s return, Polly saw the tell-tale signs of the life Esme was carrying written all over her face. To anyone else, the changes would be too subtle to notice, but to Polly, it was apparent by the way that she held herself, the way her breasts were filling out, and the flush in her cheeks. The realization fell on Polly like a hammer. She was still furious with the way Esme had been conducting herself with Tommy, and she saw the opportunity to teach the girl a lesson. 

 

They were alone in the quiet shop as they got things ready for the day. Polly dropped a cash box onto Esme’s desk, startling her out of her ledger, and bluntly inquired, “So tell me, is the baby John’s or Tommy’s?”

 

Polly eyed her up and down with a smirk. She knew that the baby was most assuredly John’s, but the scene in the office a week prior had left such a bad taste in her mouth that she thought the most offensive tack would be best.

 

Esme was stunned, but quickly recovered her wits and met Polly’s glare with one of her own. Through gritted teeth, she answered, “It could only be John Shelby’s issue, and you know it.”

 

The irony that she had been the one to encourage Esme to make John jealous was not lost on her. She regretted ever getting involved in their personal matters, but she also wanted to chasten Esme. The damn girl should have known better than to trifle with Tommy, even if it was only a flirtation.

 

“Oh, do I?” Polly goaded her, “because Thomas has been so attentive to you lately.”

 

Polly took a cigarette from a case that was sitting on Esme’s desk and lit it with a heavy silver lighter. She blew smoke in the girl’s direction and continued, “First the horse, then the quiet conversations, and that show of ‘brotherly’ concern last week was so very touching. It’s not every brother-in-law who will wipe tears away from your cheeks when your husband has misbehaved.”

 

Polly was toying with her like a cat with a mouse, but there was plenty of bite to her words.

 

Esme slammed her ledger book shut with a force that sent dust and ash swirling heavenward on the sunlight that filtered through the sooty windows. She stared into Polly’s eyes and spoke fearlessly. “There is nothing going on between Tommy and me and I’d advise you to end your conjecture before someone gets hurt.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Polly chirped, stifling a laugh, “This little conversation will stay between you and me. Although, I certainly hope that you’re not insinuating that I’ll get hurt.”

 

Esme started to come around the table. She wanted nothing more than to go out into the lane, away from Polly and her accusations, but Polly didn’t know that and wondered if she had overstepped the mark. When Esme reached the corner of the desk, Polly grabbed her arm and pulled her close. 

Punters banged on the door, and Polly shouted, “Fuck off! We’re closed!” over her shoulder toward the din.

Her game playing was over and her words took a serious tone. “I’ll tell you what I told him. You and Tommy are playing with fire. End whatever this is. Now.”

 

Esme stood firm and jerked her arm back. Nose to nose with Polly, she knew that the whole scene that was playing out was calculated to scare her into submission, but she saw no malice in Polly’s eyes. 

 

Esme backed off a bit. “There’s nothing to end because nothing ever started.”

 

“Because you wouldn’t let it start? You sure didn’t look like you were discouraging him.”

 

Polly saw that Esme’s spirit was weakening so she appealed to her common sense about men. “Tommy is a different man than he used to be. I wouldn’t put anything past him these days, least of all charming the knickers right off of you in the name of tea and sympathy. ”

 

Esme looked at her feet and thought about Polly’s declaration for a moment before defending Tommy. “He’s never tried anything like that. Is it so hard to believe that he really cares about me?”

 

The silence that met her question said it all. Polly looked at her with pitying eyes and prayed that she was telling the truth. Esme had felt so alone, so neglected that she had sought comfort, even love, from stone. It was worse than Polly thought.

 

Esme heaved a great sigh and rubbed her belly, her face reflecting the turmoil she felt. “Doesn’t matter now. I’m marked territory.” She rolled her tearful eyes and her face and chest went red and blotchy, “I’m up the duff, and our John’s still free as a bird to do what or whom he wishes.”

The sound of fists pounding on the shop door had long stopped, and Esme moved toward the exit. “I have to go out. I need some air.”

 

***

 

John sat in the kitchen listening to the exchange between Esme and Polly. He had come in before starting work and had been engrossed in the racing paper. The rise and fall of his Aunt and wife’s voices had been a comforting murmur, just background noise until he heard Tommy’s name fall from Aunt Polly’s lips as she questioned the paternity of Esme’s baby. In the quiet of the shop, every syllable carried through the double doors. 

Time stood still as John thought back to the night that Esme came to him in the Garrison. He remembered how uncharacteristically calm his wife seemed about the barmaid who was practically in his lap. Esme had laughed as she told him about how she kissed Tommy in excitement over her new horse— that didn’t seem like her at all. Later that night that she had asked him for another baby. It dawned on him that she had been grappling with a guilty conscience. He gripped the edge of the table and thought, _how could I have been such a fool?_

 

His mind raced as he tried to remember if he’d seen anything odd pass between Tommy and Esme. He couldn’t have when Tommy was never in the shop anymore, and Esme certainly wasn’t out of the house...except to ride the horse that Tommy bought her. Then again he couldn’t be sure what Esme did with her evenings. With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, John realized that he wasn’t home enough to know what his wife had been up to.

 

He came back to himself and sprang from his chair with a force that sent it clattering to the floor, and with his heart pounding in his ears he burst through the double doors that led to the shop. 

John spit the toothpick from his mouth and roared, “ESME!” 

His eyes flashed around the room. Seeing no sign of his wife, he turned on his aunt. “Where the fook is she Pol?” he snarled.

 

“John…John!” Polly shouted as she held her hands up in front of her body and attempted to calm him, “She’s not here, she’s gone out!” She put herself between John and the door.

 

He butted his chest against her, still pushing his way toward the path that Esme had taken to leave. “Let me pass, Aunt Polly! For fook’s sake!”

 

He’d kill Esme if he got hold of her in this state. Polly’s hand connected with John’s face with a crack. “Get hold of yourself!”

 

He backed off a step and rubbed his cheek. “Shit!” he screamed and bent down with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily through his nose and shaking his head from side to side.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Pol? My own brother. Why, Pol?” His shoulders shook and his brow wrinkled with anguish as he looked up. “How could she do it?” he cried.

Polly stood close to him, not knowing what to say. Her eyes followed him as he straightened up and began to pace in circles. He numbly twisted his cap in his hands until blood showed red on his pale skin.

 

“Oh, Christ, you’ve cut yourself.” Polly carefully moved to take his arm. “Sit down and give me your hat.”

 

She spoke to him in soothing tones, still unsure if he would lash out, and ushered him to the chair behind Esme’s desk. A clean slice to the ring finger of his left hand steadily dropped blood onto the blotter, the ledger, and the desktop while Polly went for a roll of gauze.

 

While Polly stanched the bleeding and bandaged his finger, John became preternaturally calm.

 

“He’s dead, Pol.”

 

Polly brought her face close to his and spoke softly, “What do you think you know? Hmmm? Because before you go off half-cocked and kill your brother, or get yourself killed, I think you may want to gather some intelligence.”

 

“I heard you talking,” he spat. “I fookin’ heard how my BROTHER has been fookin’ my WIFE!”

 

He shot up from Esme’s chair and began pacing again. Polly flinched as he cleared Esme’s desk with a sweep of his hand. “I heard every word!”

 

“What you heard was just talk. A warning. Tommy has taken an interest in helping Esme through the difficult time she’s been having. A difficult time that you have caused. Nothing more.”

 

“I know what I heard!” he stormed. 

 

“You heard an exaggeration. I wanted to scare her away from forming an attachment for him. She’s vulnerable. She’s with child for Christ’s sake.”

 

John went mad as a vision of Tommy and Esme flashed through his mind. “I swear to you Pol, if he’s touched her…” He kicked the wastebasket beside Esme’s desk and sent it bouncing off the wall, then headed for Polly’s office.

“Oi, don’t you dare wreck my office, John!” Polly shouted after him as she followed him into the glass-walled area where her desk and all of their cash resided.

“Where is he?” John snapped as he glared at Pol’s calendar, sweat pouring from his pale brow. He looked sick. “I said, WHERE IS TOMMY?!” 

“He is in the countryside at May Carleton’s estate and you are not going there.” Polly stared him down as she physically blocked the door. 

John was breathing like a raging bull. He had found his hat, and it sat cocked to the side and bloodstained above his red eyes. “Like hell, I’m not. He will answer for this.”

The sight of him so crazed made her wish that she could turn back time to the morning that they all sat at the breakfast table and she started this whole mess with her big mouth. She couldn’t do that, but she had to put out the raging fire that stood before her. “Then let me call him. I will get him back here, and you’ll have your answers. I will not have you airing the Shelby’s dirty laundry in front of Miss High and Mighty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has really stirred the turd this time (sorry for all the fecal references...I don't know what's wrong with me). I feel so sorry for Esme. All she wanted was a little comfort, and look what's happened! Jesus! This family!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esme begins to deal with the fallout of John's discovery. There are some adult themes in this chapter. Adults have some adult thoughts. It's all very grown up.

Polly placed a phone call to Tommy and insisted that he return immediately to deal with John. “He’s gone wild Tommy. I don’t know what he will do if he finds Esme before you can get to him.” There was silence on the crackling line for a beat, then Polly speculated, “I don’t know what he’ll do to you. Please be careful… I’ve never seen him like this.” 

Tommy had. One time before the war, John had nearly killed a man for putting his hands on Martha. He had broken the man’s jaw so badly that he couldn’t take solid foods any longer. He would have blinded him too, had the cops not come in when they did. For all of John’s easy-going nature, he was not a man to be crossed. He could be every bit as vengeful as Tommy and as vicious as Arthur. 

“Where is Esme?”

“She went out just before John stormed in. Said she felt sick and needed some air.” She almost divulged that Esme was with child, but something made her pull up short. “I sent Finn to look for her.”

“Alright. I’m on my way.”

As Polly hung up the phone Esme came back in. She froze in her tracks when she saw the state of the place. Horrified, she looked around at the mess that John had left in his wake. Her eyes widened when she saw blood, streaked and smeared across her desk while her things lay scattered on the floor. Her mouth opened to ask Polly what had happened but was cut off.

“You’d better make yourself scarce. John knows”

It was bad enough that Polly knew, but the evidence of John’s reaction brought her to a new low. A combination of terror, dread, and shame made her want to sink into the Earth and disappear. John was not a man to be trifled with, and answering for her actions was a terrifying prospect. 

“How? How did he find out?” 

Polly gestured toward the kitchen, “He overheard us. He’s destroyed the shop and he’s liable to do the same to you if he sees you before he calms down.”

Esme's eyes were fixed on the brownish red swath of dried blood painted across her desk as Polly spoke, her mind churning. “Is he hurt?”

“He cut his hand. Bled like a stuck pig. Are you listening to me?” Polly crossed the shop to where Esme stood, “He knows. It’s best that you go to stay at my house for the time being.”

“We have to warn Tommy.” Her dark eyes darted back and forth between Polly’s.

“I’ve already done that,” she answered curtly. “John was bound and determined that he was going to that Carleton woman’s estate to kill Tommy, but I convinced him that it was better to deal with family business here.”

“Oh, God,” Esme whispered and covered her face with her hands.

“There’s no time for that,” Polly stated. Her voice was firmer now, but not unkind. “You’ve made your bed, now you have to lie in it.”

In the abstract, she had wanted to punish John. She wanted him to feel the pain of betrayal that she had felt, but with some minor flirtation with a nobody, not his brother. This was meant to be a bit of harmless revenge, and it had somehow gone all wrong. How could she have known that a meaningless comment over breakfast would draw a reaction from Tommy, not John? That a fictional plot that was meant to pique her husband’s jealousy would end with her craving the longing gaze of Tommy’s eyes. She needed to figure out a way to stop the impending firestorm that would no doubt end with more Shelby blood being spilled.

“Please, Polly,” Esme gritted her teeth and struggled to fight the tears that Polly forbade her to shed, “have Tommy come to see me before he goes to John. I need to talk to him before they meet.” 

“And just why would you need to do that?” 

“I need to know what he plans to tell John. I need to know what to expect. Please, Polly. If you care for me and for my children at all!”

Polly’s guilt over meddling with John and Esme’s marriage made her inclined her to give in to Esme’s pleas. Although Polly was aggravated with the transgressions that Esme had fallen into, she couldn’t bear to see her in this kind of torment. Against her better judgment she acquiesced.  
“I’ll get word to him that you are at my house. He will have to pass that way before he reaches Small Heath.”

 

***

Tommy roared onto Polly’s street just after midday and parked in front of her house. He sat for a moment in the car, listening to the pinging of the cooling engine as he thought about what was to come. He’d done a lifetime worth of thinking in the hours that it took to drive from May’s place to the outskirts of Birmingham. He had formulated a plan that would stem the coming tide of chaos and save Shelby Company Limited from imploding, but he had no way to mend the hearts that would be broken by the carelessness of his actions. 

He never should have let his sympathy for her cross the line. He should have taken the matter up with John, kept him in charge of the shop and close to Esme’s side throughout the workday. He thought of a hundred ways that he could have helped her cause besides becoming her confidante and allowing their friendship to become more intimate. He had used his good sense to stay clear of her in the past after all of her talk about getting lost had first lit the fire of passion for her within him. He should have kept his distance. 

Countless times had he fantasized about running his hands through her tangled hair, pulling her face to his, and tasting her pouty lips. He had imagined how the warm curve of her spine would feel against the span of his hands as he pressed her body into his. His eyes slid shut and he inhaled sharply at the image of her creamy skin, her pink nipples, the dark patch of hair at the apex of her spreading thighs. Her back would arch and her eyes would close as she whispered his name, _Tommy_ …And he would touch her as she’d never been touched. He would make her body sing, he would worship her, God, he would love her…

His eyes snapped open, burning with fire, and he struck the steering wheel with his fist over and over. “FUCK!” he roared and tore his hat from his head, slinging it into the passenger side of the car. His chest heaved with every breath, and he scrubbed at his face with his hands. The prospect of facing her alone, of confronting and naming the very thing that they had been dancing around, was causing his unraveling. If he had learned anything in the world that he inhabited, it was that things could rarely be divided neatly into categories of right and wrong. There were always shades of gray— a little sinner in every saint. This, however, was not one of those occasions. This thing with Esme would end today. He had survived the trenches in France, he told himself, and so he could survive an infatuation with his brother’s wife. He slicked his hair back and replaced his hat, and in doing so, he returned to himself. 

She was at the door before he knocked, and quickly opened it to let him in. A red silk scarf held her hair away from her face, which only accentuated the wide open, hunted look in her eyes. Although he tried to hold the practiced neutral expression that he had cultivated over years of handling dangerous situations, he could not keep up his façade when he saw her. 

“Tommy, what are we going to do?”

She fell into his arms and her shoulders began to quake with her sobbing. He stood like a stone, swallowing hard and flexing his jaw muscles in an attempt to hold to his resolve. Images of his fantasies about her flashed through his head. He simultaneously wanted to tear her dress off and have her on the rug of his aunt’s parlor and push her away to save himself. He pushed his urges down deep into his psyche and patted her on the back in a comforting manner. She separated from him, sniffing and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. He offered her a white handkerchief which was soon smudged with black kohl.

“We are going to do the only thing that we can. What we should have done months ago.” He kept his voice even. With fluid movements, he drew his cigarette case and matches out of his pocket and lit one. He offered it to her, and when she declined he flicked the case shut and eased it back into his pocket. He was amazed that his hands were not shaking.

She turned from him and walked to a table which held cut glass decanters of whiskey, rum, and gin on a silver tray. There were leaded crystal glasses neatly arranged on a shelf behind it, and Esme lingered there, pouring drinks for Tommy and herself. For, as long as she focused on the drinks, she could put off facing what Tommy was saying to her. 

“Esme,” his voice caressed her ears, “you know what we have to do. We can’t allow this to go any farther. Even though we haven’t used our bodies to betray John, the way we feel isn’t right.”

She turned to hand him a glass of Irish whiskey and spoke, “Don’t say his name to me and talk about what’s right. Has he done what’s right by me? You and I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Hmmm,” He nodded his head and took a drink, “You’re talking to me, now. Not Polly. There’s no need to sugarcoat what has been happening.”

“But we haven’t…”

“In our hearts, and in our dreams, we have.” Tommy’s nostrils flared slightly, and his eyes roamed her face, her neck, and the bit of collarbone exposed by her dress. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth to wet it and seeing this Esme felt heat flush her face and chest. “You know we have.”  
He was right. In the months that he had stayed away, while she was trying to conceive a baby with John, she would find herself imagining that it was Tommy whose body strained above her, that the velvety shaved head she caressed belonged to Tommy, and most shamefully of all, that Tommy’s cock was stretching her wide and making her come undone. 

“Even now,” Tommy continued, “with John thinking the worst and looking for both of us we are still drawn to each other.

She was weak in the knees from the thoughts running through her head. She sat down and immediately regretted doing so because the pressure of the chair only made the throbbing between her legs worse. “How do we stop?” she sighed.

He looked away. “I don’t know. I could go away, to London perhaps.”

Esme stared at Tommy, willing him to look her way. If what she was about to say didn’t sever his feelings for her, then nothing would, and they were doomed. 

“Maybe it will be easier for us to forget all of this when the baby comes.”

Tommy turned her way. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, then closed.

Esme had gotten pregnant to stop her from wanting Tommy. She thought that some primal urge would kick in and make her fiercely loyal to John, but it hadn’t, not yet. She needed help. Nature had betrayed her. She prayed that Tommy would do what was right, because she didn’t know if she could. 

Her words pulled everything painfully into focus, and he knew what he had to do. He swallowed thickly “You are goin’ to go home to your husband and forget that any of this happened.” He swallowed again and cleared his throat, his voice cracking as he tried to push the words past his lips, “because if you don’t....”

“Because if I don’t, you’ll what? Cut me from this family?” She laughed through tears.

“No, love.” A weary smile tugged at his lips, but his eyes grew misty at the memory. He had to look away from her to muster up the strength to finish. “If you don’t, it will tear this family, and all that we’ve worked so hard to build, apart.” He drew a shaky breath, “All of our schemes and plans, all of the things we’ve dreamt of for our children...gone. We can’t survive something like this. And what we want,” he sniffed, and again he cleared his throat, “what we want doesn’t matter.”

She knew that he was right, but that knowledge did little to quell the bitterness in her heart. It wasn’t fair that her husband could lie with impunity about where he spent his nights, but she was denied a little bit of comfort that she had found in the world. She had never gone to bed with Thomas. She’d only kissed him one time, and their physical contact had been fleeting. With all her soul she wanted to be lost in his arms, just once. 

She was already paying for sins she hadn’t committed, and this would likely be the last time she ever saw Tommy alone, so she made a decision. She rose from her chair and walked to where Tommy stood. He kept his eyes from her, instead, he looked at the wall beyond. She took the whiskey from his hand and stood inches from him as she drained the glass. He kept his hands at his sides, not daring to move, but his eyes slid closed. Esme placed her hands on his shoulders and breathed his name. When he opened his eyes she spoke.

“You have made me feel worthy of love, Tommy. With just a look, a word, a touch, you have given me back what he took away. You, Tommy. Not some punter from the shop, not some bloke from the Garrison, but you. It may be wrong, what we feel, but there has to be some good in a person who sews love in a deserted heart.”

Tommy’s will fell away from him and he slid his arms around her waist. He pushed the outside world from his mind. His whole existence at that moment was the warmth of her touch and the smell of her skin. She tilted her head up as he drew her closer, every part of him pressing insistently against every part of her. The room became impossibly quiet as his mouth found hers, and she melted into his body. Her lips parted for him, and he slid his tongue over hers, hungrily drinking her in. Her hands roamed under his jacket and caressed his back. The feeling was so exquisite that he could die in her arms and be satisfied.  
It was she who pulled away, and he sighed at the loss of contact. 

She studied him. Lost in the lines of his face, his cheekbones, his jawline, and his pale blue eyes, she could see his resemblance to John and to her son. She imagined that the new baby would be blessed with the Shelby good looks as well.

She took another step back and ran her hands over her stomach. She had to let him go.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John confronts Tommy about Esme. Tommy gives John some marital advice.

John fist connected with Tommy’s nose with a sickening crack.

Tommy didn’t see it coming, but he expected no less. Blood trickled down his shirtfront and he spat more out onto the floor.  


He had come to the betting shop to see Polly and find out John’s whereabouts. As it happened, he didn’t have to look far to find him.  


The sucker punch left Tommy reeling. His eyes were watering and he swore out loud. He could already tell that his nose was broken and could feel it quickly swelling. Before Tommy could get his bearings, John caught him in the jaw with a right hook and battered his ribs with a left. The pain was breathtaking, but Tommy took the blows. He halfway believed that he deserved it, but when John whipped his hat off, Tommy’s instinct for self-preservation kicked in. He charged John, grabbed his arm, and wrenched his blinder cap out of his fist. He expected John to be in a rage, but he didn’t think that he would use a razor. Tommy shoved John away and threw his hat to the other side of the room.

He gasped for breath and held his hands out in front of him as he backed away from his brother. “John, I know what you think you heard, but I haven’t touched her.”

“Then what the fook were Esme and Polly on about this morning?” He matched Tommy step for step, backing him against the railing of the staircase that led to the rooms they shared above the shop. He sneered and carried on in a mocking tone. “All about you wiping her tears and taking an interest in comforting her.”  


Tommy turned his head to the side and leaned back. John was right in his face. He could smell whiskey on John’s breath and bristled at the way John jabbed his finger into his chest to punctuate his words. Tommy had intended to let his brother punch him, vent his anger, and tire himself out, but he had begun to second-guess his plan.

John grabbed Tommy’s face, jerked it around to look at him, and snarled, “Why are you, my brother, fooking around with my wife?”

Tommy’s dominant nature began to creep to the surface, and he stared John down. He had granted John the satisfaction of giving him a beating because he knew that it would go a long way toward righting the whole ugly situation, but his indulgence was wearing thin. Tommy’s demeanor had begun to shift. John sensed the change and backed up a step as Tommy wiped his nose, which still dripped blood, with the back of his shirtsleeve. Even in his disheveled state, he was a fearsome man.

He began the speech that he had rehearsed in the car on the way into town. “It came to my attention that your wife was troubled, and her distressed state had a potential bearing on you and on our business...”

It felt all wrong. The strategy that Tommy had planned on the way to Small Heath did not ring true. John had begun pacing back and forth in front of Tommy, scoffing as he listened to his brother.

There was a long pause, and the air was thick with silence until Tommy started again. “And you know what? That’s bullshit,” Tommy flatly stated.  


John stopped and looked at his brother with more confusion than malice. He braced himself for whatever Tommy was about to say. His worst fears ran through his mind

His voice conveyed an eerie calm for someone who had taken such a beating, and this added to John’s unease. “I came here with a whole speech prepared about how I took an interest in your home life in order to keep our business front and center in your mind, and how a distraught wife would distract you from your job, but you know what? Fuck that. I’m going to tell you like it is.”  


“All right, then,” John mumbled, his hands shoved in his pockets and his lips working around a toothpick, “Let’s have it.”

Tommy nodded his head and continued. “I admire Esme very much. In the time since your union, she has become invaluable to this family. Her connection to the Lees is the least of it. She has a natural capacity for business. She has proven herself under pressure—when the coppers came down here to bust up the shop last autumn, she kept her mouth shut. She is honorable and loyal to this family. For all of these reasons, and many more, I have the utmost respect and affection for her.”

John winced at the word “affection”, but Tommy continued talking. “I couldn’t stand by and watch her become smaller and more withdrawn because of your actions. Polly and I tried to encourage you to take care of her, but you didn’t. You continued…”

“Aw, no,” John shook his head and returned to his threatening tone. His shoulders were pulled back and he balled his fists, “you don’t get to put this off on me…”

Tommy raised his voice and talked over him, “…you continued to stay out all hours with other women, and she just got sadder and smaller and more worn down.”  


His words echoed in the emptiness of the shop, and John listened with wide eyes and nostrils flaring.

“When I gave her that horse she cried for joy. She threw her arms around me and kissed me in a moment of pure joy. Why weren’t you there for that beautiful moment, hmm? Why weren’t you there, John?” He leaned in toward John and pointed an accusatory finger. “You were down the Garrison getting a handjob from a barmaid.”

Tommy was on a roll, and when John tried to interrupt he silenced him with a step in his direction. “So when she needed someone to listen or a little understanding, I was there. And, yes, I dried her tears, but I never ever crossed the line.”

John looked At Tommy with bare skepticism and Tommy answered his look with an incredulous laugh.

“Never, brother. But, don’t think for one minute that I didn’t want to. You left her so unsure of herself and so vulnerable… yeah, I thought about it, but I didn’t. I held back not for your sake, but for hers.”

“You’re arrogant enough to think that she would have.”

Tommy smiled sadly and shook his head in disbelief of his brother’s myopic view of Esme. As much as Tommy would like to tell himself that she was always in control of her emotions, he suspected that things may have gone much further if John hadn’t found out. Each time she went to him for solace their bond grew stronger; who knows what could have been? It galled Tommy to do it, but he had to protect her from the aftermath of this day. He would tell John what he needed to hear because John had to go home to her. “You’re right. She would never have betrayed you, but I’ll tell you something. She loves you now, and she is loyal to you now, but she won’t take much more of your shit, John. Esme has more spirit than any other woman I’ve ever known, and if you don’t take care of her someone else will.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No. Just fact. You go home to her and you apologize for the way you’ve treated her and marred the sanctity of your marriage. No more whores, no more barmaids, no more laying out all night drunk.”

John sat with his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on a water spot on the wallpaper.

Tommy continued, “You will not dare to reproach her for turning to me in her time of sorrow. From this moment on it never happened.”

John scoffed, “Only I’ll know it did. You’ll know it did. She’ll know it did.”

“It never happened, and we will never speak of this again. For the good of the family.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esme and John reconcile, but for how long?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh me! I am utter shite at letting well enough alone, so here's an ending and a beginning. Enjoy, and leave a comment if you'd like.

On one side of the door stood John. He must’ve looked odd to passersby, staring unblinkingly at his own front door. Flexing his jaw. The toothpick in his mouth moved up and down by a small degree as he did so. What they could never know was the terms of the negotiation he carried on with himself. 

Part of him wanted nothing more than to throw her out. Replace her. He was a Peaky Fookin’ Blinder after all, and there was no end to the line of girls who would gladly take her place. Yeah, they could cook his meals, keep his house clean, his bed warm, and raise his brood, but none were like her.

He loved her, and he loved that she thought enough of herself to bow up when he treated her like shit. Did he really want his daughters raised by a doormat? No. Therein lay his conflict. If he was to have a life with Esme, if he wanted to have his children raised by a Lee with all the hellfire and brains of a Shelby, he had to make concessions. 

On the other side of the door, Esme flew around the kitchen like a madwoman. She was determined that John would come home to clean children and his favorites for tea. She’d whipped up a shepherd’s pie and had a new bottle of whiskey on the table. The children were fed and washed up for bed. 

“When your father comes in you can all kiss him goodnight, but then you have to go up for bed if you want to get up early and go to the fair tomorrow.”

The promise of a day out was enough to convince her unruly bunch to comply with her wishes, and she hoped that things would go to plan. After all, she loved the man. The whole business with Tommy would have to be shut away and put out of her mind if she was going to remain a Shelby. She had to believe that everyone would follow Tommy’s dictate to pretend that it never happened. She’d already convinced herself that it was nothing. She could be like them. She could justify anything if she tried hard enough. _Just sisterly affection. Just brotherly concern. Put it out of your mind. Raise John’s children. You belong with John. You love John_.

The click of the lock and the creak of the door turned her head, and there he was. He was lit from behind. Fading afternoon light filled the doorframe around him and obscured her view of his face. He loomed there for a bit too long, and she began to panic. The kids were in the other room, and she wondered if having them at home was such a good idea. He stepped forward and closed the door. His face was unreadable and there was blood on his shirt. Maybe this time Tommy did not get his way. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” A stream of shouting children flooded into the kitchen and crowded around John, hugging his legs.

Katie, the eldest, looked up to him with hopeful eyes. “Mummy said we could go to the fair tomorrow if we behave ourselves tonight. Will you come too?”  


He lifted her up and kissed her forehead. “Yeah, I think I can do that.” 

Katie snuggled into her father’s shoulder and John looked over her head at Esme. He smiled sadly at his wife, and she at him. 

His decision was made.

 

***Two Years Later***

 

“Tommy said not to leave you in here alone at night, Mrs. Shelby.”

“I’ll be alright. I’ll lock up when I leave.”

Curly shifted his weight from one foot to the other and wrung his hands. He didn’t want to disobey Tommy’s orders, but he was also loathe to contradict the woman standing before him; it was a perplexing situation indeed. He looked at the ground and shook his head.

“But, Mrs. Shelby, Tommy said…”

“Tommy said…” she muttered under her breath before piping up, “I’ll thank you to remember that I was a Lee before I became a Shelby. I can take care of myself.” Her words came out a little too harshly, and she immediately felt remorse. After all, he was only trying to do his job. She turned away from the coal black stallion that she had been looking in on and softened her tone. 

“I will be perfectly safe in here with Diogenes. There’s really no need for you to stay up. I’ll call for you if I need you.”

“Promise?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“Okay, but it’s still not what Tommy said,” Curly mumbled amid misgivings as he shuffled off to his rooms.

Even though Tommy was a ghost to her he still seemed to exercise control over every aspect of her life. He had the good sense to go to the shop on her days off, and never spoke to her unless it was absolutely necessary. He ran things from his posh new office on the other side of town, and never seemed to socialize with the family anymore. He stayed in that rambling pile in Warwickshire getting up to no good…at least she didn’t have to see him, and that made things easier even if she still had to follow his orders.

With Curly gone, she at long last had the peace and quiet that she craved. Time alone was a luxury these days, especially with a teething toddler at home. She could scarcely hear herself think most of the time. On a typical day, she went from the racket of her children to the dull roar of the betting shop then back home to even more racket. She loved her kids, and honestly wouldn’t trade all the chaos and noise for the world, but tonight she needed the space and silence of the deserted scrapyard. Tonight, she needed to think, because John had begun to act strangely again.

John had always confided in Esme about business, but he did even more so after their reconciliation. The baby seemed to solidify her bond with him, and the situation that Esme and Tommy had been involved in faded from memory as if it were all a fever dream, especially after Grace came back to marry Tommy. It was as if John wanted Esme entrenched in every part of his life. They would lie in bed at night talking about the plans and schemes he and his brothers were working on, and he heeded her advice about many of their endeavors. Things had been good for a long while, but lately, he avoided talk of business at all.

It started after Grace was shot. At first, Esme thought that he was just worried about her safety. When Tommy lost Grace it changed the stakes of the game that they all played a part in. Wives had always been off the table, but now nobody was sure. Everyone was on edge and security was tightened around all of the Shelbys. Little by little, he shied away from talking to her about his work until he stopped altogether.

Worst of all, he had begun staying out nights again. When Esme asked him about it, he just told her that it was better if she didn’t know. People whispered that Tommy was losing his mind, that he was off his game and making bad decisions that involved putting Arthur and John into increasingly dangerous circumstances. She understood that they were dealing with a different breed of enemy but resented the fact that John wouldn’t open up to her about the foe they faced. 

_“I have a right to know,”_ she argued, _“This affects me and our children.”_

_“The less you know the better. Just leave it. Believe me, you don’t want to know,”_ he’d said, then closed his red-rimmed eyes and hung his head.

She’d been standing in the same spot, stroking the horse and going ‘round in circles in her mind when Tommy walked in. He moved like a cat. His footfalls were light on the packed dirt floor as he made his way toward the stall that held the stallion. When Esme came into view he stopped. He momentarily considered turning around and heading to the Garrison to wait for her to leave, but that thought was diminished by his desire to stay. The dim light from a naked bulb illuminated her face and threw her dark lashes into contrast with her pale skin. He watched her hands automatically caress the creature’s silky mane and a long forgotten feeling gripped him. She looked so much like his memory of that night. The night she first kissed him.

On the day that Tommy made peace with John, he closed the door on whatever feelings he had for her. He cast around for reasons to stay out of Small Heath and there were plenty. Things were advancing quickly with the London expansion, he was busy with his new racehorse, and he found his own diversions with May and Grace. He turned his face away from Esme and didn’t look back. That was the deal. 

Soon enough, Grace reentered his life and set into motion the chain of events that led him back to the stables today. Tommy’s head was a hive of manic activity, and Charlie’s yard was the spot to which he would return when he desperately needed calm. He didn’t expect to see her there, but it was bound to eventually happen. He knew that he should leave, pretend that he had never seen her, and pretend he had never recalled the taste of her lips, but instead he started moving toward her.

A cigarette casually dangled from his lips as he approached. The smell of smoke drifted her way and broke her out of her reverie before she realized his presence. She drew in a sharp breath in anticipation of confronting an intruder as her eyes flashed in his direction. She exhaled slowly as she took in his appearance and realized it was Tommy. He was thin. Much thinner than she had ever seen him. His once clear blue eyes were dark and hollow, his cheeks were gaunt, and his suit hung loose on his frame. She felt a sharp pang of sympathy for the blinder devil.

“Tommy,” she breathed, “what’s happened to you?”

He took a final drag of his cigarette and ground it out on the wall. His lips curved into a brief, wistful smile. “Do you find me very changed?”

“Yes.”

“Never one to mince words, eh, Sister?”

She answered, not unkindly, “Tommy, you don’t look well.”

He shrugged and blew air through his nose, “You do. Motherhood agrees with you.” His eyes followed the perimeter of the stable. “Is Curly about?”

“No. I sent him to bed a few minutes…”

Tommy cut in, “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be out here alone.”

“I’m perfectly able to take care of myself.”

Blinking slowly, he shook his head and grumbled, “Same old Esme.” Then he lowered his voice to a whisper and moved closer to her, “We are dealing with some very bad men and I can’t let anything happen to you.” His words caressed her ears. His tone was familiar, but a bit more polished. A result of his recent conquests, both business and personal.

“I wouldn’t know. John won’t tell me anything. Says it’s your orders. So why don’t you enlighten me? What are you involving us in, hmm?” She held her head high, and her voice remained firm and even, though her heart was in her throat. 

“The less you know the better.” 

It was the same line John had used earlier in the night. Esme huffed and turned her back. She took a few steps away from Tommy. When she turned back to face him, her shoulders were tense and drawn up, and her mouth was pulled into a thin straight line. She came here to consider how to best approach her husband who had lately slipped into his old bad habits, and here comes Tommy Fucking Shelby to break her concentration and probably make matters worse. She was living out a particularly distressing déjà vu. 

“No, I believe that it is best that you tell me what you have my husband, the father of my children, doing. He isn’t himself.”

“Oh, yeah? How so?”

Though she didn’t want to discuss her marital problems with Tommy, (for obvious reasons) that is precisely what she ended up doing. She told him about John’s distractedness, the nights he didn’t come home, and his secrecy. She confessed that she thought that he was being unfaithful to her again. The mere mention of his infidelity opened old wounds because as she spoke, the walls that she had built between herself and Tommy began to come down. It was wrong, but she wanted his arms around her. She wanted to bury her face in his chest, to smell his body, and to anchor herself in the warm soft richness of his words. But she stayed rooted to the ground four feet away from him because damned if she was going to let history repeat itself.

He didn’t know what to tell her. What could he say? _Esme, we are up to our necks in Russian espionage and a disastrous robbery plot. Your husband didn’t come home last night because he was at the orgy of a Russian Duke. Oh, and there’s a Catholic priest who wants us to do his bidding or he will kidnap our children and have us all killed._ The truth would devastate her, and worst of all, he was the architect of her suffering.

“He was working.”

Tommy rubbed his tired eyes and reached into his pocket for his cigarette case. Esme examined the man standing before her. Something did not ring true, but she felt powerless to argue. She watched him blow a lazy plume of smoke toward the ceiling, and as he did she noticed bruising on his neck in the shape of evenly spaced fingerprints. She instinctively stepped forward and reached up to touch the marks.

His lips were parted as if he was on the verge of protesting but couldn’t quite bring himself to speak. He gazed down at her as her tentative touch turned to a caress.

“What happened to you?” she softly said, her brow wrinkled with concern. Her fingertips slid along his collar and then reached back up to his jawline, searching for bruises there.

An unfamiliar sensation of guilt washed over him. Why should he feel remorse? He didn’t owe her any kind of fidelity, and yet he felt shame at the thought of Esme’s gentle touch existing on the same plane as the Duchess’s wanton, grasping hands. He knew that he was falling again and he owed it to her and to John and to the whole bloody family to stop it from happening. He swallowed hard and pulled her hands away, then turned and walked toward the yard. 

“I’ll let you finish up in here then I’ll take you home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what y'all think!


End file.
